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Its official. I am not cut out for hospitality work. Looking back I should have known something was up when I was told to return my poodle skirt immediately at the breakfast diner I worked at for two days in highschool. And if that didn’t trigger any concern maybe the call from Pizza Schmizza when I was 17 should have, letting me know that unfortunately due to poor pizza sales I had to be let go. They are still open.

I do think that in many situations it wasn’t my fault. I know I know, sounds like I can’t accept blame. But I promise you, I was working for insane people. Fully insane. One boss let me borrow her phone under the conditions that I didn’t delete any of the dirty texts or pictures to and from her boyfriend, even though she had already transferred them to her computer and turned them into a scrapbook. (Why she let me borrow this phone, I do not know.)

My most recent boss can only be described using the word, vile. I realize this is pretty harsh and I don’t usually insult people lightly. But it is an accurate accusation, his customers as well as employees would all agree. The meanest look I have ever received in my life came from this man. Once I didn’t hear him say hello to me and when I finally took notice he looked at me with the same glazed evil that Voldemort gives Harry, Joker gives Batman, and the Wicked Witch gives Dorothy. A bit extreme to say the least.

The bar manager at the pub I worked at in Western Australia had no teeth. Not a one.

I realize it sounds like I’m bitter. I’m not. But really, who wants to be great at mopping? So what if I sometimes miss a spot. I find mopping to be the most archaic ritual. With all television advertisements after midnight only covering advanced steaming swiffer wiping floor cleaning devices then why oh why must we still mop? I’m no expert in mopping of course but sticking a dirty mop head into dirty water and pushing the dirty water around the floor just doesn’t seem to make sense.

So I can’t mop, and maybe I occasionally forget to wipe under the grill. And not every single coffee ground is multi-purpose cleaner cleaned away under my watch. But its okay, I don’t really want to be the girl who always wipes under the grill. “You know Shirley, best grill wiper in town!” Nah.

I suppose if I am honest with myself, I just don’t care enough. I do my job as I am told, but I don’t go overboard. If a customer has to wait for a few extra seconds, I’m alright with it. If a piece of lettuce gets stuck in a weird crack and I can’t reach it, I usually just leave it.

And we’re back to square one, I’m just not cut out for hospitality. It takes someone with great patience and great attention to detail. That is not and never will be me.

I think hospitality is a necessary evil though. I think that even as mind numbingly terrible it is at times, it gives back more than it takes. Working in the service industry really lets you see the other side of things. Never again in my life will I ask a bartender for the price of every single beer before ordering. I will also decide what kind of coffee I want to buy before going to the counter. I will not be angry at the wait staff if my food order isn’t correct and I will always leave a tip.